I didn't mean to do it. I really didn't. But there is something about a "beach party" at the Hilton, with it's thumping, atrocious Eurotrash music pounding away that brings out the worst in a girl. Erm..woman. I eighty-sixed a woman from the dance floor because she had the misfortune to dance with my husband when I felt a wee bit irritable. Normally this isn't my style.
Wait. Yes it is. My temper is legendary. I've just kept it as much in check as possible since embracing Islam (Islam means "peace" for those of you who watch too much Fox news). It's not like I beat my kids for crying out loud, but I just have certain limits..ya know? And a woman in a very short skirt happens to be one of them. I had a moment.
Let's paint a picture. I look up and see the husband, who I honestly trust completely, heading to the dance floor with a young woman. I squinted at the scene, Clint Eastwood style (picture him in The Outlaw Josey Wales).
Yes, it was a little like this.
I started for the dance floor, passing a couple women friends on the way. I whipped off my sweater (I am all about dramatic flair) and tossed it at a chair. They both sat up straight, shisha pipes jammed tight, in happy anticipation of the scene to come. I stalked to the dance floor, tapped the hapless lass on the shoulder, and told her to leave. Cease, Desist. Amazed looks were thrown. The crowd gawked (joyously I might add..there is nothing the Hilton crowd loves more than a good punch up). My poor husband looked like he'd just seen a three headed alien land from Mars juggling lemon pies. She smirked and I went nose to nose. Needless to say, she left the dance floor and I turned on my heel and left too. A Moroccan girlfriend laughed and threw me a high five. Other girlfriends congratulated me and professed they loved me a lot. It was, as my sister calls my lapses in discretion, a rich moment in history.
I want to feel badly. I want to feel shame at my inexcusable behavior. I just don't. (I didn't feel badly about throwing loose change at a T conductor in Boston either, when he yelled at my mom). I heard the innocent victim of dance floor fame was tearful later, and certainly I embarrassed the hubby for about five minutes, then he laughed it off. Why did I do it? Latent insecurity in the face of a very short skirt containing a very big badonkadonk? I dunno. I am always modestly dressed, to the point where my more liberal Arabic friends tease me about my covered arms and legs. I haven't worn a skirt showing my legs in ages, nor would I. I guess I am only human, as they say.
If it makes people feel better, a good friend chided me the next day. I snorted. When I said I enjoyed myself tremendously, he shrugged and said, "I guess you informed all women in Salalah didn't you?" Why yes, I guess I did.
Correct Dance Partner. Hmpf.
I think not.
As for the cake, I finally hit my stride again. I made a wonderful Walnut Bundt Cake, perfect with tea or coffee. I also bought a Samsung Note 3 (cause Carrefour has a good sale now that the Note 4 is the thing). That means I can take my OWN cake pics and get them online. This means more posts again! Hooray! How lucky are you?
This recipe is from the Diamond Walnut Company. I promise you, it's lovely.
1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts
1 1/2 c. all purpose flour
1/2 t, baking powder
1/2 t. salt
3/4 cup unsalted butter, room temp
1 1/2 cup sugar
3 eggs, room temp
1 T. vanilla extract
3/4 cup buttermilk (not available here...add a dash of white vinegar to regular full fat milk)
1 cup powdered sugar
1 1/2 t water
Toast the walnuts at 350/180 for five minutes. Keep oven preheated at that temperature. Grease a bundt pan (use a lot of butter) and coat with flour. Sift the flour, baking powser, and salt and set aside.
Blend butter and sugar on medium high for 3-4 minutes until creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, blending well with each addition. Add the vanilla. Alternating by 3 with the buttermilk, blend in the flour mix. Fold in the walnuts and scrape batter into the pan.
Bake about 35-40 minutes until toothpick tests clean. Cool 15 minutes, then invert to a wire rack. Cool completely. Mix the powdered sugar and water and drizzle over the cake. Top with some walnuts if desired.
Their cake. I don't have this particular pan here, but if you see one like it let me know. I wantee.
My cake. Note the artistry of taking the pic on my white comforter. I'm all about presentation.
I didn't bother with the glaze...I am not an icing fan. I like simple cakes with hot tea and not too much sugar on them.
Oh..and by the way, Dhofari Gucci put a feed to my blog. Heart be still, for she is awesome. At least I think so, because I see feeds coming from her blog. Maybe I should go read her last couple posts. hehe
Love,
Felicia El Aid
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